


Soif

by Lualie



Series: Every silver lining [3]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, This is really silly summer bickering.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:50:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11564028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lualie/pseuds/Lualie
Summary: There are many ways to get the last word, you just have to be dramatically petty enough.





	Soif

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be posted literally a month ago and while I'm too busy at work I can at least shuffle around my old drabbles.
> 
> Maybe I'll make this a compilation of shenanigans? I'm not sure about what or when or how.
> 
> Then again, this story was supposed to include Banshee, and more of Firefly, and if the Fates were kind enough it would had been posted on Saint-John's Eve and TOOK place basically on SAINT-JOHN'S EVE but, alas.

Summer in Gotham wasn’t particularly unbearable to go through in itself. 

Sure there was something to be said about the overall humidity that left you breathless, or the lack of proper sunlight benefiting from the looming rain but, nothing the citizens weren’t used to.

It could be said that, as far as summer weather was concerned, Jonathan Crane had never quite adapted to this colder rendition of the season. This could hardly hold a candle to Georgia’s heatwaves.

In fact, by all means, this was a mockery.

“Jon can you stop tormenting me and take a layer off already, I’m agonizing at the mere sight of your extra shirt…”

Edward Nygma. Mastermind extraordinaire, perpetual p-emperor of his own comfort, and apparently everyone else’s within his immediate vicinity.

“Shame, Edward. If it can be of any help, I’ll politely advise you to look away.”

“You know I can’t ignore those shabby out-dated plaids in my own house-”

The older man slowly took his eyes away from the paper he was reading to cut him short. “It takes more energy to argue about my choice of clothing than to pour yourself a cold glass of water, Edward.”

A cold silence settled, Edward’s eyes squinting in disbelief.

“Did you just….”

A smug, merciless smile crept on Jonathan’s face, daring him to call the old doctor out. He returned to his reading with a satisfaction akin to the cat that got the canary.

To be quite honest, Crane was surprised to see his partner huff and leave the shared space, possibly slamming the door of his office--- yes, that he just did.

Edward could be capricious, although that sort of teasing usually arose more as a challenge rather than a serious offense between the two. 

He’ll be alright, Jonathan knew.

Unless there had been some miscommunication there as well, as he was expecting Edward to be the first to pick on his deadpan humor. Jonathan rolled his eyes, a growing apprehension rounding the corner.

The door flew open, a flash of green and orange stalking past him to get to the front door. Jon presumed, to lower the thermostat a few degree lower. He could hear the steps coming back just as swiftly, intending to ignore him completely.

He could have done it simply via the wireless remote in his office.

“Eddie.” The younger rogue stopped, a look that clearly said he had 5 seconds to make his case.

Changing his mind on a split-second whim, the ex-psychiatrist said nothing and laid back deeper in his chair, hands folded. Holding a piercing stare with the same ravenous satisfaction as earlier. Jon found himself quite pleased with the results, as the redhead’s face matched his hair. 

“Oh, alright then. You go be your unusual giddy gangly self, I’m applying your advice acknowledging that my temperature will significantly drop if I’m not infuriated by your attitude and poor decision-making.”

“Glad to know I’m helping you toward a healthier lifestyle.”

Unable to get back the upper hand, Edward turned once more to his room to save some of his comically wounded dignity. Jon swore he could hear him mumbling from the other side of the closed door. Emphasizing the words “in my own house” quite vehemently.

Jonathan’s good mood surprised him as well, and carried on for the remaining of the day. A few tests done, and notes taken. Edward’s absence and extensive stubbornness had not undermined the significant results of a particularly productive day, but he conceded he should extend the olive branch first.

He quietly knocked on the door, the distinctive and continuous sound of computer keys told him Edward was awake and acute.

“I’m going out for lunch with Garfield. ‘Said he had some ideas in dire need of refining, or something along those lines. Would you like to join me?”

He could still hear the keys in motion. His phone shook softly against his thigh, and was swiftly opened to show his partner’s text saying that no, he was in the spirit of finishing this project as early as possible. You two have fun.

Thoroughly unimpressed, phone still in hand, Jonathan pressed on. “Alright. There’s some left-overs from yesterday in the fridge. I’m expect-.. I’m hoping to find them consumed when I come back. I’ll crawl up the gutters to knock on your window if it makes my suggestion more convincing.”

Another text, stating Edward’s office was boogeyman-proofed.

“Oh is it really now.” he added faux-nonchalance. 

There was an exasperated sigh and steps from the other side. A lock being removed with great show. The genius to whom it belonged stood in the doorway with apparent pride and dignity, displeased to be interrupted, especially by Jonathan Crane.

“There. You see me, have I sated your morbid curiosity at last?”

“Oh Edward. I could drink you in all day.” 

“I am going to murder you assiduously, right at this very spot, Jonathan Crane.”

“Love and war, my darling. Love and war.”

Edward’s green eyes squinted defiantly as he seemed to pick a plan of his own, and Jon knew he settled for one when they sharpened dangerously. The criminal mastermind pressed a hand to his chest and pulled him by the shirt, locking his eyes on the carefully intrigued gaze now at his level. 

The taller man was not enjoying the position at all but, intrigued nonetheless.

Fascinating.

“Well if this is war, my dear quarrelsome Jon, I’ll let you have one last kiss before I change the locks.”

“Oh, the horror. The gutters for a while it shall be, then. Any chances of a _pourparler_ , perhaps?” his voice was crooning knives.

The red-haired genius seemed to ponder the thought in an exaggerated manner, his mind already made. “Riddle me this, Jonathan…” He pulled him a bit closer, himself not moving an inch. Jon’s pale eyes were mercury. “Wash it and it isn’t clean. Don’t wash it and then it’s clean. What am I?”

The question rung for a few tantalizing moments -as it was obvious-, their faces a few inches apart, before Crane was released. Ungracefully landing on his ass, with rightful anger.

Down from the floor, Jon was greeted with the sight of a particularly complacent Edward, making a great show of downing a large gulp of water from a strategically located plastic bottle. One intelligent green eye making sure the older man was looking at his glorious victory over their ridiculous petty game.

Love and war, he seemed to say. Smugly closing the bottle, throwing it at him likewise and closing the door, all of the animosity from the previous day gone.

Jonathan stared at the closed door, and swore.

Once more, his phone received yet another message from his partner.

If it gets too hot for you, feel free to turn down the thermostat, the message said.

Jon stared at it, practically feeling the impossible grin coming from the message.

And went to disconnect the AC on his way out.


End file.
